


Baby It's Cold Outside

by miceenscene



Series: Harvey & Naomi [1]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 07:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21442795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miceenscene/pseuds/miceenscene
Summary: Harvey stops off at the farm to visit his good friend, but due to inclement weather winds up being snowed in. Whatever will they do?A purely fluff take on the old 'There's Only One Bed' trope.
Relationships: Harvey & Female Player (Stardew Valley), Harvey/Female Player (Stardew Valley), Harvey/Player (Stardew Valley)
Series: Harvey & Naomi [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1549033
Comments: 22
Kudos: 200





	Baby It's Cold Outside

“Sam, you do realize that you cannot _ call in sick _ to a doctor’s appointment, correct?” Harvey sighed, pushing down his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

The silence on the other end of the phone proved that perhaps Sam had not realized that. “I…” Sam began, dragging the single syllable out to musical lengths.

“If you’re feeling poorly, I’ll happily make a house call and we can reschedule your check up for when you’re _ better _.”

Sam, however, did not seem to pick up on the fact he’d been thoroughly caught and instead tried to double down on his excuse, adding in more and more disparate and incongruous symptoms that Harvey could easily diagnose him with being dense as a brick but otherwise hale and hearty. He was at least able to convince Sam to reschedule his appointment for when he was ‘feeling better’. But that still left Harvey with an unexpectedly empty schedule for the rest of his day.

He stood up in his apartment above the clinic, hands in his pockets, and surveyed the space--wondering what he was going to do with the gift of a free afternoon. It was rare to have such a treat during the coldest months of the year; he didn’t want to waste it. Of course the usual hobbies and haunts offered themselves, but before he could decide on any of them the sight of the row of empty pickle jars in his kitchen caught his eye. The rather extensive collection were washed and gathered on the counter to remind himself to return them to their rightful owner at some point. A reminder which hadn’t actually worked all that well. He’d been meaning to go over to Cherry Wine Farm for weeks now--months more like.

Perfect. This would take up his afternoon and give him a chance to see Naomi. A very legitimate reason to go over to her farm, he reasoned with himself as he dug around in a closet for a bag to hold all the jars in. Not that she’d mind a lesser reason, or perhaps no reason at all. Maybe. They were friends after all. Good friends. Just friends. ...Just good friends. And he should be happy with that, he reminded himself as he set off from the clinic after putting a note on the door of how he could be reached.

Truthfully, he was grateful for her. One of the worst parts about getting older was how hard it became to keep friends, let alone make new ones. For anyone it was a challenge, and especially for anxious doctors with interests so archaic even George thought they were boring. Naomi was the very rare exception and Harvey wasn’t about to squander or ruin a good thing. So just good friends it was.

The walk to Cherry Wine Farm was a decently long one, long enough for Harvey to appreciate how many times a day Naomi crossed the distance with all manner of parcels and goods in her backpack. No wonder she was in such good shape. Medically speaking, of course.

His breath fogged in the cool winter air as he passed by Pam, leaving the bus station. “Heading out early?” he asked her. Surely it wasn’t five already, hard to tell with the cloud cover where the sun was in the sky.

“Yeah, I’m not driving in this weather,” Pam grunted without stopping.

Harvey stopped to look upwards. A thick blanket like covering blocked out every bit of blue sky. There were possibly some flurries falling… or the wind was just stirring up already fallen snow. Difficult to tell. He supposed he should count it a blessing that Pam was being cautious. The last thing he wanted to happen was a car accident--shudder at the thought.

Finally the hand crafted and hand painted sign (a collaboration between Leah and Emily last Winter Star) for Cherry Wine Farm came into view. A smile broke out across Harvey’s face and his pace picked up a bit. He hopped up the few steps and knocked on the front door to the house. For several minutes there was no response, though Naomi’s cat, Chicken, did come to investigate. He laid down in the front windowsill and surveyed Harvey, tail swishing behind him.

“She’s not home, is she?” Harvey asked the cat.

The cat did not reply.

“Harvey?” a voice called from behind him.

He turned to look and his heart did that little patter-skip as Naomi was approaching, her arms full of red cabbage and a wide smile on her face. Her cheeks had turned quite pink, whether from effort or the cold he wasn’t sure. But she looked like she’d stepped off the fancy Victorian biscuit tin Harvey’s grandmother had displayed on a high shelf when he was small.

“Well, this is a nice surprise.” She stopped to knock the excess snow off her boots before joining him on the porch. “I thought you’d have appointments all day.”

“Ah, patient called in sick,” he explained.

She frowned, head tilting to the side. “You can call in sick to a doctor’s appointment?”

“You can if you’re brazen enough.”

That made her laugh, eyes crinkling up with amusement. “Here, open the front door for me, if you don’t mind, and we won’t have to stand out in the cold.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.” He swung his bag over his shoulder and opened the door for her, holding it so she could step through. Though Chicken did take the chance to escape, slipping out between their legs and scampering away. “Is he…?”

“Eh, he’ll be back in five minutes when he realizes how cold it is, or when it starts to snow again.” She dropped the cabbages on the kitchen table, dusting her hands off and then snagging a few stacked dishes from the table. “Apologies, wasn’t expecting any visitors today.”

“Oh, no. It’s fine.” He waved a hand and quickly surveyed the cabin. For some reason, he’d always had the impression that it was a one room set up inside Naomi’s house, but the view revealed doors to other rooms as well as a cosy open plan living room/kitchen. The fireplace in the kitchen was crackling merrily. Between the fire and the casual lived-in look of everything in sight, Harvey felt instantly at ease. A feat he’d never really experienced before in his life--it took several seasons before he really felt at home in his own apartment. 

He then realized that he was hovering awkwardly, still in the doorway. He should sit… or would that be presumptuous? He’d never been inside her house before. Should he take off his shoes? She hadn’t--

“Harvey,” Naomi’s voice interrupted his inner dialogue. When he looked up, she was giving him a very amused look. “If you have the time, take a seat. Relax.”

A blush shot across his cheeks. “Thanks.” And he sat at the table as she sorted through her cabbages. 

“So what brings you to my doorstep? Just here to see me?” She flashed him a teasing grin that did nothing to help dismiss the blush from his cheeks.

“No, well, yes--ah. I brought back your jars.” He lifted the bag and carefully placed it on the table, before pulling out a few.

She looked astonished. “You didn’t have to bring them back.”

“Well, I figured it would save you the trouble of having to buy more.”

She regarded him for a few moments, making his heart do more inconvenient patter-skips. Really, at some point he’d have to check himself for an arrhythmia if this kept up.

“Thanks, Harvey. That’s really thoughtful.”

He blustered for a few seconds, mentally skimming over a few bolder statements but eventually settling on, “You’re quite welcome, Naomi.”

She picked up a few of the jars and gave him a quiet smile. “Can you stay for a while or do you have to head back to the clinic?”

If she kept looking at him like that, he’d happily grow roots in this chair and never leave. “I, uh… I think they’ll survive without me for a few hours.”

The beaming grin he got was its own reward.

Harvey wound up spending the rest of the afternoon in Naomi’s kitchen, happily accepting every warm beverage she passed his way. It’d been a very long time since they’d talked for anything longer than a few swapped sentences when she ducked into his clinic to offer him some coffee or pickles (once it was a bottle of melon wine, that he’d squirrelled away for a special occasion and had yet to find an occasion deserving of it in a whole year). She regaled him with stories from around the farm; fall was a very busy time for her but she seemed to be happy settling in for the coldest time of the year. Though she still had more than enough plans to keep her busy, he observed. Farm life never really stopped.

“How’d you manage to have fresh cabbages in the winter?” Harvey asked, nodding to the now washed pile of produce at the other end of the table.

“The magic of a greenhouse,” Naomi boasted over the third cup of steaming tea in her hands. “I have tomatoes and corn and blueberries growing all year long now. I’m going to have melons here in a few days too.”

“Impressive. Fresh vegetables and fruit are a great way to keep healthy during the winter.”

She covered her mouth as if to stifle a laugh and he realized what had just come out of his mouth.

He blushed again and shook his head. “Sorry… hard to take the doctor hat off sometimes.”

She reached over and patted his forearm. “I don’t mind, really. You’re right, fresh vegetables _ are _ a good way to stay healthy. But those are for Pierre.” 

“Pierre?”

“He’s making fish tacos for Carolyn’s birthday on Sunday, and told him--_ whoa _.” She was looking past him, at something over his shoulder. He turned to look and rose out of his seat to stare, open-mouthed, out of the window. It was odd to think of snow pouring… but there wasn’t really a better way to describe it. Large chunks of flakes pelted the ground in a deluge so thick he couldn’t see the chicken coop anymore.

“Look at that,” Naomi said in a hushed tone as she joined him at the window. She chuckled. “Maybe it’ll clear up in a bit--do you want to stay for dinner?”

“I don’t want to impose,” he replied. Wordlessly, she held a hand out towards the blizzard happening outside the window and gave him a flat look. “Point taken.”

“I’ll see what’s worth eating around here.” She started heading for the kitchen, but turned back around to face him. “Oh, there’s a radio in my room, if you wouldn’t mind grabbing it. Probably should see what the weatherman has to say about this.” 

She pointed to the door on the other side of the living room and then went about her quest. Harvey headed to the indicated door and as he pushed it open, his brain finally put together the words ‘my room’ to their actual meaning. Call him old-fashioned, call him a nervous wreck, but he hadn’t been inside a woman’s bedroom in an embarrassingly long time. Especially the bedroom of a woman he had an unspeakably large crush on. 

Out of some form of politeness--or perhaps to just keep his heart rate from sky rocketing more than it already was--he scoped around only long enough to spot the radio on top of the dresser. He wasn’t expecting it to be a wooden boxy thing that looked like it was straight out of a WWII propaganda piece. But it was the only radio he saw in his admittedly brief survey of her room. So he grabbed it and dashed back to the safety of public spaces, forcibly making himself ignore how pleasant it smelled in there.

Like honeysuckle and fresh laundry.

He set the radio up on the kitchen table, plugging it in, and was about to adjust the dial to his preferred station (jazz and occasional weather updates) when he noticed it was already tuned to it. 

Now Harvey did not believe in Fate. Or destiny, or soulmates, or really any things that couldn’t be proven through the scientific process and testable theories. But. If he ever came close in his whole life, it was probably that moment right then in Naomi’s kitchen, staring at her radio. Reminding himself that it was just a coincidence, after all Pelican Town only got three clear channels, he flipped it on. Not more than a few seconds had passed in the Duke Ellington song before Naomi started mindlessly humming along as she hunted through cabinets. 

Oh, Harvey was _ sunk _.

Chicken had been lazing on the back of the small couch in the living room. Now he raised his head, as if to give Harvey a knowing look. Yeah, even the cat knew how thoroughly cooked Harvey’s goose was. Seemed about right.

“Can I--can I help at all?” he asked, smoothing down his tie to give his hands _ something _ to do besides flap about like nervous pigeons.

“Depends,” she replied, her upper half buried in a lower cabinet. She grunted and stood to drop a few potatoes on the counter top. One bounced to the floor and rolled towards him. “Can you peel a potato as well as you can set a sprain?”

Harvey picked up the stray tuber. “Nearly.”

“Great.” She patted the potatoes. “Then let me find you a knife. How does breakfast for dinner sound?”

A smile drifted across his face. “Sounds wonderful.”

It was far nicer preparing a meal with help than cooking alone, Harvey decided about a third of the way through the first potato. Not that he did much cooking, alone or otherwise, but the point remained. The conversation earlier had been good but this casual camaraderie was even better. Like somehow he was part of her beautiful little world, rather than just a visitor in it. 

As he played sous-chef, Naomi chatted about how her father always made pancakes every Saturday morning. Apparently he also liked _ only _ fried eggs, with the yolk still runny, and he’d passed that trait to her along with her hair and the ability to burn in even the slightest sunlight. Harvey reciprocated with memories of getting doughnuts with his grandfather on Sunday mornings in the little shop in the town he’d grown up in. How the place always smelled of stale cigarette smoke and peanut oil and there were always the same four men gathered at the same booth in the corner.

The food was delicious, of course it was. Hard to beat farm fresh eggs, and milk, and flour, and potatoes--in fact Harvey wasn’t sure that any part of the meal came from anywhere but Cherry Wine Farm. A true sign of Naomi’s dedication to get this place up and running after years of neglect.

After dinner and another very leisurely cup of coffee, the sun had long since set but the snow was still coming down. The weather report claimed that it would keep snowing all night long too. Harvey surveyed the view from the window over the sink as they did the dishes. Drifts had made it unclear where the porch ended and the yard began. The mental picture of himself struggling through the piles of snow to try and get back to Pelican Town made Harvey very uneasy.

“Well… you can’t go home in this weather,” Naomi said, drying the dish he’d handed her. “You’d die of frostbite before you even got to the bus stop.”

“I’d probably die of exposure before frost--”

“Harv.”

“Right, right.”

Harvey focused on scrubbing the last few flecks of hashbrown from the skillet as his mind rapidly started doing the mental math of exactly how this predicament would end up.

“Trouble is,” Naomi continued in a thoughtful tone. Her eyes darted his way. “I’m not hiding a spare bedroom behind the fireplace.” A corner of her mouth lifted in an apologetic half-smile.

He quickly shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ll take the couch.”

She looked between him and the loveseat where Chicken was dead asleep, and then back to him. “Harvey, you sleep on that couch you won’t be able to walk for the next week.”

He’d reached much the same conclusion himself, but still. “I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he protested as he unplugged the sink and let the water drain away. 

“Even if it’s not, you still have a solid two feet on the couch.” She leaned back against the counter and looked towards her living room for a moment. “How about I take the couch and you take the bed?”

He shook his head as he rolled his sleeves back down. “Absolutely not, this is your home.”

“And you’re my guest,” she retorted.

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“It’s not--”

“It _ is _.”

“Fine. Then…” Naomi sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Then we share the bed.”

A Benny Goodman recording immediately started playing over a separate recording of Miles Davis in Harvey’s head as he ceased to function for several seconds in a row. In fact, the discordant internal cacophony was all he could hear as he missed Naomi’s next sentence all together and tuned in to hear her say, “--big enough for two people and I think we can both be adults about this, yes?”

“...Fine,” he said, weakly.

“Okay then.” She nodded once and gave him a brave smile. “I think I might even have some stretchy yoga pants that’ll fit you,” she mused as she walked away.

And that was how Harvey ended up Naomi’s bathroom, sucking in his gut in the mirror and trying (read: failing) to remain calm. He wasn’t quite sure what he had done to deserve this fate, but now that he was here he had a number of regrets. First was the fact that he hadn’t spent the last five years joining Alex on his daily workouts. At one point in his life he’d been fit, verging on attractive, but that was about ten years, forty pounds, and a very stressful ER residency ago. Harvey could swear that he was watching the hair turn grey at his temples as he continued to stress.

Second was the fact that he’d managed to put himself in this situation in the first place. Not that he’d minded the day up to this point--in fact it was probably the highlight of his month. But Naomi could hardly pop into his clinic for five minutes without Harvey thinking about it for the rest of the day. How did he expect himself to survive an overnight? Much less _ Share A Bed _?

And finally there was that. Sharing a bed. With Naomi. _ Naomi _ . Naomi, the very intelligent, witty, beautiful farmer whose smile made his stomach feel like a shaken up soda can. He hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to ask her on a date yet (or even to coffee), but surely sharing such close quarters with him would kill even the possibility. He probably snored. He didn’t even know if he snored, it’d been so long since he shared a bed with anyone. What if he _ drooled _ on her?? Maybe he should just stay up--just stay awake all night and hopefully in the morning the snow will have stopped and he can go back to his miserable little apartment above the clinic and never have to acknowledge that he drooled upon the person he was crazy about. Yes, perfect plan. Perfect plan, no flaws.

As he stepped back out, dressed in his undershirt and her _ very _ stretchy yoga pants that only reached his mid-calf, Harvey paused as he took in the scene. Naomi was sitting up in bed, calmly reading a very old looking agricultural book held in her lap. Her hair was out of its usual bun, loose and curling past her shoulders. The radio on her nightstand now was playing jazz quietly and the covers had been pulled back on the other side of the bed, ready and welcoming for _ him _ . The sight was so wholesomely domestic it took Harvey’s breath away for a few moments. He was _ homesick _ for a life he’d never known--a life he couldn’t help but desperately want no matter how hard he tried to stop.

Feeling out of place in the quiet moment, he went and sat on his borrowed side of the bed. Glasses folded neatly on the nightstand, he slipped beneath the covers and glanced towards Naomi. She simply folded over the corner of the page in the well-loved book and set it aside before turning off the lap and radio and then shimmying down under the duvet.

Her shoulder brushed his. As did her foot. The sheets smelled like fresh laundry, but it was her hair that smelled like honeysuckle, his brain unhelpfully noticed. 

“This is kind of fun,” she said, a smile in her voice, as she adjusted her pillow.

He glanced her way, though between the dark and without his glasses she was more of a vaguely Naomi shaped figure than Naomi herself. Maybe it was better that way. “It is?”

“Like a sleep over.” She curled up on her side, a knee brushing his thigh in the process, facing him. “Did you ever go to those when you were a kid?”

“A few, yeah. Been a few… decades since my last one.”

She laughed a little and poked his upper arm. “You talk like you’re this old man. But you’re not even thirty-five.”

“Will be in two weeks,” he pointed out, folding his hands neatly across his stomach even though he’d never once slept this way in his entire life. Better to stay awake that way.

“Still doesn’t count.”

He sighed a little despite himself. “It does when every other bachelor in town is barely a day over twenty-six.” He stiffened as he realized just how honest the sentence had wound up. 

But she just hummed. “Not to sound too much like a greeting card, but you’re only as old as you feel.”

He could practically hear the comment that Maru or Sam would make. “Then I guess that makes me a hundred and five.”

She reached over and patted his hands, then gave them a squeeze that sent his heart racing. “Don’t worry, we’ll teach this dog some new tricks. Just give me time.”

Now admittedly it had been literal years since anyone had done anything remotely close to flirting with him, but Harvey was suddenly rather suspicious that perhaps Naomi was heading to that territory. Maybe. It was less in what she said and more in the way her hand trailed across his arm as she retracted it. Either way, goosebumps formed over every inch of skin she’d grazed.

But she simply yawned and rolled to her back. “Night, Harvey,” she murmured.

He stared at the Naomi-shaped blob for a minute, absent-mindedly running a hand over the area she’d touched. Till he caught himself and abruptly turned back to the ceiling, clenching his hands together. 

Well. At least he had something to think about as he waited for morning.

❄ 

It was as he was rising to consciousness the next morning that Harvey realized he had failed in his Stay Awake All Night plan. For about two seconds he didn’t regret the choice at all. He was very cozy, perfectly comfortable, and his face was tucked into something that smelled like honeysuckle. Mm, he should just go back to sleep.

Then his pillow gave out a soft snore.

Harvey’s eyes shot open and he snapped his head up, only to feel Naomi’s hand drop away from where it’d been cradling the back of his neck. But before he could really delve into the particulars of that revelation, a much _ much _ bigger one hit him square in the face. Not only had he failed in his not sleeping plan, he’d also draped himself halfway across Naomi’s sleeping form. Leg hooked around hers, arm wrapped around her waist, face in her hair--the whole nine yards. What did she even need the duvet for? He’d practically been a second blanket!

Mortification was a _ very _ effective stimulant as he was now abruptly wide awake. Wide awake and panicking. Okay, okay, okay, he needed to fix this. Damage control, _ emergency priority one triage _. Slowly, so he didn’t wake her, he started to disentangle himself from her--anything to reclaim even a shred, a scrap of dignity before she was conscious and aware of his transgression. He was in the middle of this process when Naomi snored again, loudly. He paused, ankle still crossed with hers, and stared at her in wonder for a second. She sounded like she was momentarily possessed by a chainsaw. Honestly, he was a little surprised he slept at all through the ruckus she was making.

Focus, Harvey. He slipped his foot back to his side and was pulling his arm away when he was betrayed by the vintage double-bell alarm clock on her nightstand. Without opening her eyes, Naomi’s arm shot out to silence the ringing, groaning as she did so. Harvey took advantage of the transition to whip his arm away from her and settle into something like reclining after snagging his glasses from the nightstand. So he was definitely closer to her than he’d started the night, but at least he wasn’t on top of her anymore. His cheeks burned a little at just the thought--damn his complexion.

Naomi, having silenced the alarm with an accuracy that only comes from years of daily practice, simply rolled towards him, winding up with her face smashed into his chest. He froze. She could probably feel his heart pounding because he definitely could. 

With the pace only a half-asleep person could maintain, she lifted her face to squint up at him. “Oh, it’s you,” she mumbled then just cuddled up to him again. She let out a contented sigh once she’d settled. “You’re nice and warm.”

Harvey was more mannequin than man for about a minute as he stared down at the side of her head that he could see. Was this… was this actually happening right now? It would just be like his dreams to start with a rush of panic and fear. And really in what version of reality would he be sharing a relaxed sleep in with Naomi? 

But she then threw an arm over his torso and hummed softly, shaking his dream theory at the foundations. Deciding that hopefully turnabout was fair play, he looped an arm back over her as well. His fingers brushed the silky ends of her hair and in only a few short minutes, it became obvious that she’d drifted off again.

It was back. The Longing. He could feel it sitting inside his lungs like a physical weight. Just this _ want _ for this moment right here to be an average Wednesday instead of the best thing that had happened to him this year. A strangely brave voice reminded him that if he really wanted this to be his life, he could always do something about it. Like finally ask Naomi to that coffee… or dinner or dancing… for as long as they both shall-- _ one step at a time, Harvey _. Coffee.

The perfect moment was shattered by the alarm ringing again. Naomi groaned without moving for a few seconds and then reached an arm towards the clock futilely. He was pretty sure he heard her mumble something about help. Being in possession of longer arms than she, he reached over her and managed to fumble the alarm off.

Though he then realized that the move effectively put the two of them in the exact same embrace he’d woken up in fifteen minutes ago. Just perhaps a bit more intimate--if that was even possible while still remaining fully clothed.

“Should have turned the damn thing off last night,” she muttered into his shirt, still not moving from her spot or opening her eyes.

“No big plans for today?” he asked, a smile grazing his face.

“You’re looking at them, buddy.”

He chuckled once. Oh, that sounded nice. Just hole up in this quiet space beneath the covers with her all day long. He could hardly think of a better way to spend a day.

“Has it stopped snowing?” she asked through a yawn.

He glanced towards the window and frowned as he saw the soft blue of a clear winter sky. “Appears to.”

She then sighed and stretched leisurely. “I should probably check on the chickens… and the melons need to be harvested. And Pierre still needs his cabbages.” The way she said it sounded like she often made mental lists for herself. 

“No rest for the weary.” _ And no more excuses for him to stay _.

She looked up at him, absolutely breathtaking with her mussed hair and the fading imprint of a pillow on her cheek. “Did you have fun at the sleepover?”

He smiled and nodded. “Yeah.”

She returned the smile back to him. “Good.” She scrubbed a hand over her face, then stopped and stared at something on his shirt. Her eyes widened and he was surprised to see a blush highlight her cheeks. “Oh god, I, uh…” She wiped at the place where her face had just been. “Crap, I drooled on you. Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

He could almost laugh if she wasn’t so obviously mortified. Wasn’t blushing and undue embarrassment his job?

“It’s okay,” he assured her, still smiling.

“God,” she groaned and sat up, burying her face in her hands. “I drooled on you and I know I snored last night.” She ran her hands through her very messy hair, only succeeding in adding to the unkempt and terribly attractive look she was accidentally cultivating. She shook her head and gave him an apologetic look. “I’m a pretty terrible person to share a bed with.”

He’d sat up as well and gave her a forgiving smile. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“Yeah?” 

He nodded slowly and couldn’t bring himself to look away from her gaze. The relaxed feeling evaporated as something much stronger and tenser filled the air in the room. Oh, god. He might try to kiss her right now--actually there wasn’t a might about it. He… he wanted to, he was going to. He Was Going To Kiss Naomi. Incrementally, he leaned towards her. Oh, please don’t let him mess this up, please, _ please _.

And that was when Chicken jumped up onto Naomi’s lap. She looked down at the small animal demanding her complete attention and the tension in the air immediately disappeared. Harvey could only chuckle, there wasn’t another response. Admittedly, disappointment did follow. But as he watched her gently chide the unrepentant cat, he couldn’t help but remember that she’d been leaning towards him too. Maybe he could actually ask her to that coffee soon. And maybe she’d even say yes.

“You want to be fed, don’t you, Chicken?” Naomi kissed the top of his head as Harvey’s stomach let out an audible rumble. He slapped a hand over it and felt his face heat up. But she just smiled at him. “Not the only one around here. Come on. Coffee, Harvey?” she asked as she got out of the bed.

“Please.”

❄ 

Perhaps the most surprising part of the accidental sleepover was that no one else in town seemed to be aware that it happened. Harvey had just assumed that someone would have spotted Naomi giving him a ride to town on her horse. But several days had already passed and no one made any teasing remarks or mentions at all. He was fine with his clinic not being filled with nosy villagers, but he was very disappointed by its lack of Naomi. 

He’d promised himself that the next time he saw her he would ask her for coffee. But in just two days, his frustratingly cowardly brain had come up with many excuses of why that was a bad idea. If he didn’t see her soon, he’d wind up talking himself out of the promise altogether. By the fifth day, he was beginning to wonder if he couldn’t come up with some other excuse to send him out to the farm. Or perhaps he should just stop by to see her… but he didn’t want to intrude.

Harvey was filling out insurance forms at the front desk and arguing with himself about the likeliness that he’d interrupt some very important… winter… farm task that he was unaware of when the bell rang. He looked up to see Naomi stepping in, cheeks and ears wind chapped and adorable. 

She pulled the scarf from her neck and smiled at him as she crossed to stand on the other side of the front desk. “Hi, Harvey.”

“H--hey,” he said, a slight panic immediately setting in. _ Oh god he promised himself he’d ask her and here she was, so he had to do it right right right??? _“How you… been?”

“Good. Busy. Like you said, farm life never stops.” She reached into her bag. “But I brought you something.” She set a jar of pickles on the counter and pushed it his way. It looked like it was even canned in one of the jars he’d returned.

He picked it up and cradled it to his chest. “Thanks,” he said sincerely. The gift somehow dissuaded and added to his anxiety all at the same time. Maybe he needed more time… 

She rested her elbows on the counter and grinned up at him. “You know, Chicken’s really missed you.”

He paused. Okay, yes, that was _ definitely _ flirting. “Chicken, huh?”

She nodded. “You should stop by and see him sometime, I think he liked having you around. And maybe you won’t even get snowed in this time.”

Harvey laughed a little, looking down at the pickles in his hands and catching sight of his very warped reflection. Yeah, he had to try.

“Hey Naomi,” he started, looking up to her. “Would you ever… want to go get a coffee or… dinner sometime? With me? Together?”

Her eyebrows lifted in slight surprise. “Like on a date?”

Oh, he wanted to crawl into the nearest hole and die. But he made himself nod once. “Yeah. Like a date.”

Instead of answering, Naomi leaned more across the counter, grabbed his tie, and pulled Harvey down to her level for a heart-stopping kiss. It was soft and sweet, honeysuckle and home. He wanted to pull her across the counter and into his arms, but he was still holding the pickles. His brain didn’t have enough space leftover to make a decision to put them down as it was just entirely fireworks and big band swing right now. 

She touched her nose to his before pulling way. “Thought you’d never ask,” she said before laughing breathlessly.

He ducked his head, blushing furiously. “Sorry.”

But she just reached over and squeezed his hand. “Don’t apologize. I knew you’d get there in your own time.”

“Friday night work for you?”

She beamed and nodded. “Yep. See you then, okay?”

He nodded repeatedly, a giddiness overcoming him that made him feel twenty years younger. “Okay. Okay then. Okay.”

Naomi smiled and winked at him before heading out, the bell on the door jingling as it closed behind her. Harvey covered his mouth for a minute, still holding the pickles, and all he could do was laugh. It was finally time to break out that melon wine.

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely fallen in love with this nervous doctor man. Let me know your thoughts below! <3, Kaitlyn


End file.
